How to Warm a Vampire
by Solora Goldsun
Summary: It's winter, and Simon has taken on the nightly role of personal heater for his cold, wet, grumpy vampire boyfriend.


**Why, hello there! Nice to meet you,** _ **Carry On**_ **fandom. I can't believe I only discovered this amazing book just a few months ago! I remember picking it up, feeling skeptical about the potential gay romance due to being queerbaited by several shows and books, then feeling nothing but joy when I realized that the romance was real. Seriously, this has become my go-to book if I want to feel happy. I'll sometimes open to a random page featuring Simon and Baz, just to feel all warm and fuzzy at whatever they're doing in that scene.**

 **This is my first foray into Snowbaz, but it will certainly not be my last. Since I have an addiction to sleepy cuddle scenes, I just typed a behemoth version of that for this fic.**

 **Enjoy!**

 **Simon**

When the door slams open, I don't bother sitting up, or even opening my eyes. I already know who it is. Penny only just left to go to the store, so she won't be back for another hour. Even if she was on her way back, only one person slams our door so dramatically.

"Evening, Baz," I call. I can't keep from grinning when he responds with a sulky growl. I can almost _feel_ him pouting through the back of my head.

"I'm cold," Baz grumbles. I hear rustling as he removes his coat and boots. I still don't move. I'm right where Baz wants me, after all. I just have to open my wings and wait. Soon, I'm treated to a freezing, damp vampire pressing himself against me like a pet lizard whose heat lamp broke.

"Did you fall in every snow bank on the way here?" Vampires rarely trip, but I wouldn't put it past him to have done so on purpose. He loves giving himself extra excuses to gripe while I cuddle him and feed into his little diva act, his voice muffled against my sweater as he complains.

He mutters a "Hmph," into my neck, his breath just as cold as the rest of him. I kiss his forehead.

This has been our routine all winter, when Baz's lack of natural body heat becomes very apparent and very annoying for him. Though, I'd like to point out that the flat he got from his aunt (which is much closer to the university) is significantly warmer than mine. Also, his father bought him a very expensive space heater for his bedroom.

Seriously, it's a nice heater! If Baz keeps refusing to use the damn thing, I'm bringing it here. It's not like I don't have furniture-moving experience.

But convenience doesn't seem to matter to him, not when he's appointed me as his one and only personal heater, walking an extra half-mile so that he can collapse in my arms, acting as if he's on the edge of death.

If I sound like I'm complaining, I'm not. I like these moments, when I can feel Baz changing from cold and grumpy to warm and content, when I know that I'm the reason he feels better, the reason he feels safe. I'll jump on any opportunity to protect him, even if it's just from the weather.

Since losing my magic, try as I might, I haven't been able to ignore the power imbalance between myself and, well, everyone I'm close to. If a goblin swarm or a horde of vampires mount an attack, I'll have to be the one hiding on the sidelines, watching someone else use their magic, risking their life for my safety. That's hard to get used to, and even harder to be okay with. I've been talking about it with my therapist, among other things.

This, on the other hand, is something I can do better than anyone. I mean, I assume so. I've never seen Baz cuddle with anyone else, unless I somehow saw him doing so when I was younger, and the idea of my evil nemesis being capable of cuddling was so shocking, my mind blocked out the whole thing.

Baz nuzzles my neck, seeking out and kissing one of my moles, which he seems to have an unhealthy obsession with. He has promised that, one of these days, probably the next time Penny visits Micah, he will pin me down on the nearest available flat surface and kiss every single mole and freckle on my body.

I hope that, when he does, he loses his place and has to start over. A lot.

I can still feel him shivering in my arms, so I pull him even closer, ready to devote the next hour or so to erasing every bit of winter chill from him. I've reached a point where I have it down to a science. Merlin, I could probably write an instruction manual on how to do it the most efficiently.

The thought almost makes me laugh. Can you imagine that in the Watford library? Right, smack in the middle of the Dark Creatures section, between _Handling a Werewolf's Time of Month_ and the first edition of _Effing Numpties_ by Fiona Pitch (the censored version), will be _How to Warm a Vampire_ by Simon Snow.

As I hold Baz, I find myself imagining exactly what I'd write.

Step 1: Resign yourself to cold feet.

Your vampire will be bare-footed, and he will insist on pressing those frozen toes of his between your legs, against your stomach…basically anywhere you _don't_ want cold feet to be!

You could try denying fate for the few seconds it would take to suggest wearing socks. This will result in your vampire being a prat and insisting that his feet will warm up more quickly against your poorly-protected skin.

Foot note (ha ha): Putting up with prattishness is to be expected in any prolonged encounter with a vampire. (Foot note question: Is prattishness even a word…?)

Also, don't make any noises when your thighs are freeze-branded. That will only encourage the vampire to press his toes in more.

I can't keep from shivering a bit as Baz's toes, as if on cue, find their way to my ankles, rolling up my pyjama pants. I'm rewarded for my brief shudder by him wiggling his toes against my leg and smirking against my neck.

Prat.

 **Baz**

It is true that bare feet are warmed quicker with body heat. It's a scientific fact, actually. However, that isn't why I torment my dear boyfriend with mine. The truth is that there was one time, just one, when I got onto the couch with a half-asleep Snow, and was treated to a loud noise that sounded somewhere between a yelp and a squawk, like a terrified cocker spaniel crossed with a very indignant goose.

It was the funniest, stupidest, most adorable thing I've ever heard, and I will consider my life fulfilled if I can elicit that sound just once more before my eventual gruesome death by flames. Or a bunch of crosses piling on me. Or a stake through the heart. You get the idea. I've accepted the fact that I will one day meet my end at the hands of an over-zealous vampire hunter, and will die while holding his dying corpse to my mouth for one last, bitter meal.

Crowley, I'm starting to sound like one of those "edgy" Normal teens…

I did get him to shiver this time, so I'll consider that a victory of its own kind.

The feeling of him shaking while my body is pressed against his…Well, let's just say it does things to me. Things I would love to investigate further one of these days, when we're both ready. For now, I let the pleasant flush of arousal come and go, settling for wordlessly reminding Simon that I never forget where that one mole on his neck is.

I look up at his eyes, which are a little muzzy, imitating a blue sky with a slight haze of white clouds. His smile is gentle and just a little droopy on one side. I must have caught him just on the edge of sleep when I came in.

Good. I love it when he's just a little tired, just a little less controlled and perfect than he usually is. He kisses my cheek sloppily, his hands clumsily moving to rub my back and hips. I'm already looking forward to when his breaths even out, his hands drop down, and we fall asleep together right here.

Then, I'll get to wake up in his arms tomorrow morning. That's something that I will absolutely never tire of.

 **Simon**

Step 2 (optional): Wrap your wings around your vampire.

Obviously, this only applies to people who actually have wings. Any kind of wings will do.

At least, I think they will…

Come to think of it, I'm not sure how fragile pixie or fairy wings are, or how useful they'd be in this scenario. (Note to self: Ask Penny. Amended note to self: Do _not_ ask Penny, unless you want yet another Trixie-related tirade. Seriously, they haven't seen or bothered each other at all since Penny dropped out. She needs to let it go, already!)

Feathery wings are probably the most comfortable, since they have downy fluff, which is the stuff that goes in pillows. I'm a bit biased, but I still lean more toward dragon wings. I mean, the scales are smooth, the webbing is like soft deer leather, and both Baz and Penny have said that they are as warm as an electric blanket when wrapped around someone.

Baz squirms against me as my wings cover him, the right slipping under his side and cradling him even closer, the left draping over his back and shoulders. He hums happily, the sound coming out as an almost-purr. I nuzzle a kiss into his hair, because I love it when he makes that noise.

I slip a hand under his shirt. His skin is still as cold and clammy as a basement wall during a rainstorm. I rub his back in slow, long circles, paying extra attention to the tense spots.

Exams are coming up, and I know that Baz is becoming more stressed than usual because of it, even though they are just Normal tests. He's always been crazy-obsessed with being at the top of everything, even a non-magic university.

He yawns. That's a good sign. If he can sleep, he's not at the point where he's ripping his too-perfect hair out. There have been times when various irritating factors led to him nearly reaching that point. By then, his crankiness stopped being cute. It wasn't a good time for anyone.

I tug at the collar of his shirt and kiss his cold collarbone. Baz grazes his teeth against my earlobe without really biting down. It's kinda pathetic how much I almost want him to bite down fully one of these days, just to know what it feels like, just to experience an extra edge to the already-overwhelming emotions and physical reactions that fill both of us when we're alone. The obvious danger involved only makes the fantasy more exciting.

I don't tell Baz this. He'd call me a suicidal idiot. Maybe I am, or maybe I'm just totally okay with the idea of dying while having the most exciting final kiss with Baz that I can imagine. I mean, what a way to go, right? It sure beats the many other ways I thought I'd die during my Watford days.

After carefully teasing my earlobe to the point of redness, he scoots downward so that he can nuzzle his frigid face against my chest. He lets out another rumbling breath, reminding me of a large, dangerous cat as he curls against me.

I press my wings into his back, holding him tightly. There's a slight tremor in him, one that isn't from the cold, and I know he's thinking about the numpties again. I kiss the top of his head wherever I can reach, reassuring him that he's here, that he's with me.

 **Baz**

I feel safe in Simon's wings, safe in a way nothing else can make me feel.

Unsurprisingly, I still hate anything that even remotely reminds me of being in that fucking numpty coffin. I need to keep the door to my bedroom cracked and the curtains of my windows open when I sleep, just so there's some light coming in, even if it does burn me awake when morning arrives. Sometimes, closing my eyes is enough to put me back there, to fill me with all the sensations that became my everything during those six weeks.

Cold. Helpless. Starving. Alone.

Simon's wings don't make me feel like that, even when they enfold me completely like a leathery cocoon. They're everything a coffin isn't: warm, soft, alive. Even when they're still, I can hear the blood pulsing through them. I trust them. I know they'll open for me and let me go if I need them to.

I never do. I just press my ear against Simon's chest and listen to the thud-thump of his heart pushing blood into his wings, his face, his hands, that ridiculous tail. I listen to the sound of my boyfriend being alive and being all around me.

His hand is rubbing my back, and his mouth is messing up my hair, and I just love him so damn much!

It's astounding how quickly he switches from gentle to passionate, then back again. Sometimes, I marvel at the fact that I don't get whiplash just by being around him. I mean, I probably did suffer that several times at Watford. I definitely did when we first got together, switching from being mortal enemies to lovers in the span of just a few days.

I mean, looking back, the change was much more gradual. It certainly didn't seem so at the time, however. Nothing feels gradual or slow when Snow is involved.

Right now, he's being very soft, caressing me like I'm something worth protecting, rather than something he thought he needed to protect the world from just over a year ago. His hands press firmly into my skin, their warmth seeping into my chilled bones and starting to melt away at the ice that always seems to be there. I sigh against him. I'm so comfortable, it turns into a yawn. He kisses my shoulder, leaving a hot brand behind.

I see him reaching for the blankets. His cheeks are flushed, his eyelids are drooping, and he's obviously fighting to stay awake. I'm torn between wanting to make him as hot, bothered, and awake as possible, and just letting his sleepy mood continue working its unique, soothing magic on me.

I think…

I pause to let out a yawn.

I think I'll do the latter. Crowley. He's just so warm.

 **Simon**

Step 3: Cover yourselves with blankets.

This is especially important if you don't have wings. Vampires don't produce much body heat, as I've said, so a winter-touched vampire can drain you of warmth faster than the Humdrum could drain magic from a square mile. (Too soon?) Make sure your feet and his stupidly-frosty prat-feet are totally covered.

Once Baz is nice and settled, I pull the fleece blanket and comforter from the back of the couch and over both of us. Baz's yawns are starting to overlap as he kisses me sloppily. I'm nodding off a bit myself, kissing the corner of his mouth, his cheeks, and his chin, not really bothering to aim.

I let one of my hands move from his back to his front, seeking out his favorite spot: his stomach. I don't know why he loves it so much when I rub his belly. I've joked on more than one occasion that it makes him seem like a very sharp-toothed, very goth puppy. He's usually too blissed out to snap at me, since I tend to make said jokes while giving him a good rubbing.

He makes a quiet noise, one that I just barely hear. It's like when a kitten chirps just when you're waking it up. (Yes, I watch cute cat videos when I'm bored. And when I'm not bored. Sue me.)

I think I make a noise too, because Baz stirs a little, pulling back to look at me, one stormy eye open. "Got something to say, Snow?" he murmurs, a teasing smirk on his face.

I tangle my fingers through his hair and tug just once, giving him a mock-stern glare. "Hey. When I'm putting up with your cold vampire feet, it's Simon."

He growls when I pull his hair, but it's not an angry growl. It's the kind of growl that makes me suddenly feel really, really hot, like I actually _am_ part dragon.

"As you say, Chosen One," he mutters, his voice somehow oozing affection and sarcasm in equal measures as he nuzzles my chest again, his growl-purrs making my ribs shake. My chest seems to be a favorite spot for him, right up there with my lap, any spot that bears a mole, and the top of my head. He really likes smelling my hair. I should probably be weirded out by that, but I've decided to put that quirk in the "Cute Vampire Habits" category, which is much larger than you (or I a few months ago) would expect it to be.

You know, he still didn't call me Simon. I was thinking about just letting him go to sleep, but I can't let this slide. So, I go from rubbing his stomach to tickling it.

This startles Baz so much, he actually lets out a very loud, very undignified squeak that I will probably replay in my head for the next five years at least! He bats at my hand and squirms to the very edge of the couch, stopping just short of falling off, my wings acting as a net to keep him from rolling further. He bursts into a fit of giggles, his brows creasing with mirth. His cheeks flush a little, so I know he's fed recently. He looks beautiful.

My tail lashes back and forth before joining my hands in their assault on Baz's stomach.

"Told you to call me Simon!" I crow victoriously, though my smugness doesn't last long. As he gets over his initial shock, I watch as his surprised laughter quickly morphs into a very evil grin.

Uh oh.

 **Baz**

Oh, Snow is going to pay for that.

I pounce, pinning him onto the couch, my knees on either side of his legs. His wings completely drop away, taking the blankets with them, going totally slack. I grab that stupid tail in my hand, and it slips through my fingers, wrapping around my wrist in an almost instinctive manner. I look down at Simon's flushed, golden cheeks and his blue eyes, which are still wide with surprise, and I think about taking this in a different direction.

But, no. I'm a petty creature, and I must have my revenge.

I put one hand on his stomach, one on the side of his neck, and start tickling him mercilessly.

He lets out a squawk that's hilariously similar to the one he let out when I put my cold feet on his legs. Hm. Perhaps, I should do this more often.

"B-Baz!" he sputters, his tail leaving my wrist and swishing back and forth. He's too flustered to do the smart thing and use that silly devil's appendage to fight back.

"Don't dish it if you can't take it!" I say. That's actually a very useful countering spell, but I don't put any magic behind it. I notice Simon wince instinctively in response to the phrase, but he relaxes again pretty quickly.

He shoves at me, trying to upset my balance so he can take control, but I use a decent amount of my natural strength to keep him down. I tickle him, listening to his adorable laughter, watching his face become redder than mine will ever be. Just as he's starting to sound on the very edge of breathlessness, I stop.

I lean over him, kissing his flushed face, feeling his labored breaths as he recovers. Is he breathing too hard? I shift a little, so that less of my weight is on him. "Alright, Simon?" I whisper.

He nods against me, and I let myself relax. I need to be careful when I roughhouse like that. I keep forgetting that Simon's a Normal (albeit one with dragon wings and a cartoon devil's tail). Even if he wasn't, there are several ways that a vampire can hurt someone, both on purpose and accidentally.

I hate how I sometimes teeter just on the edge of control, like when I bite Simon's ear or scratch at his abdomen. I always do it again, though, because the idiot seems to enjoy it so much, not realizing how much danger he's in.

He's always telling me not to hold back, not to suppress myself, which is just ridiculous. I'm a vampire, for Crowley's sake! If I didn't suppress myself, I'd have devoured him ages ago.

His arms and wings are around me again, and he rolls over onto his side before tilting my face toward his. His eyes are shining, and there's a grin on his reddened face that tells me he's about to make me just as breathless as I made him.

 **Simon**

Step 4: Snog your vampire senseless.

The face and feet are the last parts of a vampire to warm up. The feet will eventually be warmed up by your body heat, and the blankets. You don't have to pay them any extra attention. (Unless snogging feet is your thing. I'll try not to judge.)

Simply kiss your vampire until his face doesn't feel cold anymore. And after it doesn't feel cold anymore. Actually, be prepared to keep snogging him until one of you falls asleep.

That's definitely what I plan to do!

Even though I'm still recovering from that tickle attack, I press my mouth to his annoying smirk. His lips are still cool, despite all the kisses he's already given me. I nip at his bottom lip, teasing it until it's pink. He's growling again, the sound just beyond hearing, but vibrating against my chest.

I kiss down his neck, to his collarbone, to his chest. When did I undo those three buttons? Or, did Baz do that?

He moans and gasps and writhes as I lick at his skin. I slip my hand under his shirt again, massaging his chest, feeling his heart. It beats slower than a human heart, but it does beat. I'll fight anyone who says Baz isn't alive, including Baz!

A cold hand slips through my hair as he yanks me back to his face. "Bit demanding, aren't you?" I manage to mumble against his mouth.

"Shut up," he growls, pressing me to him, making the kiss messy and intense.

I shut up. We're both pretty good at doing that when we're kissing.

 **Baz**

Simon's kisses are hot and forceful, like he's pulling at me, taking ahold of the ever-present chill within me and bleeding it out through my lips, replacing it with the warmth that he somehow has an endless supply of.

It's easy to forget that Simon doesn't have his magic anymore. It's easy to think he's still the most powerful mage in the world when every touch feels like falling into a tangle of cut power lines. When he can so easily fill me with all the heat, love, and confidence I need and still have so much left.

I try to do the same for him. Whenever I notice a glimmer of doubt in his eyes, I hold him against me, as if the darkness inside me can snuff it out. I kiss him whenever I'm sleeping over and he has a nightmare. I fill his ears with "I'm here," and "It's alright, love."

It never feels like enough, no matter how often he tells me that it is.

I'm grateful that we're lying down. The feeling of being drained and filled like this is more than enough to make me swoon. Several times. Consecutively.

Still, I push myself into him, because I certainly won't be a passive figure in this!

He kisses my mouth until it's swollen, licks my ear like he has some kind of fetish, and nips and nibbles at me in a way I would never feel safe doing to him. I know my skin is mostly pink and red, flushed and bitten by Simon Snow.

I look alive. I feel alive. He has that effect on me.

He suddenly shifts away from me, sitting up and taking his heat with him. I'm ashamed of the involuntary whine that escapes me.

I feel his hand moving downward, and a jolt even more powerful than bloodlust shoots through me. Is he…?

Wait, no.

His hand is on my leg. My bad leg. The leg that those fucking numpties injured. The leg that was never quite right again, even with all the magical healing spells that were put on it. He's rubbing the leg slowly, squeezing the muscles at intervals, sending pinpricks of pain through it. I hadn't even noticed it had gone numb.

 **Simon**

I don't always remember to do this. I know Baz's leg suffers the most during his cold spells, but it's easy to forget that when warming his mouth, hands, and neck is just so addicting. I remember tonight, probably because I'm mentally going over actual steps in my head. Maybe that manual is a good idea, after all.

Step 5: Tend to any injured areas on your vampire. Try not to forget this.

I rub slowly up and down his leg, thigh to ankle, hoping I'm doing a decent job of massaging away any pain. Baz isn't complaining, so I guess I'm doing fine.

After a few minutes, I look back up at his face, and am shocked to see that he looks one step away from crying. I gather him close again. "Hey."

"I'm fine," he whispers, clutching my shirt.

"You sure?"

"I'm sure."

"Okay." I don't question him further. He doesn't like that. I just let him feel whatever he's feeling right now.

He rubs his cheek against my chest, then shifts upward to kiss the corner of my mouth. His grip loosens. I think he's about to fall asleep.

I kiss his mouth one more time. Gently.

"Night, Baz," I say against his lips.

Baz presses another sleepy kiss to me before settling, his face pressed to my chest, his slightly-warmer feet pressed to my legs as he draws his knees up. "Goodnight, Simon."

I take the blanket off the floor and cover both of us. My head sinks into the pillow. My wings enfold Baz completely. My tail wraps around his waist, the tip stroking his hip under his shirt. I rub his back as I feel his muscles slowly loosening.

"I love you." I say it quietly, because I know he'll hear, and because I don't want to be too loud and rouse him from his near-sleep.

He stirs a little at the words, and I can feel his smile through my shirt. There's also a drop of warm wetness, which I'll ignore for the sake of his pride.

"I love you too." His voice is deep and muzzy and so, so soft. I wish we could just stay like this, that time would stop for everyone but us and Penny, who will probably come home soon and roll her eyes at how "obnoxiously cute" we are.

Since prolonged time-stopping spells are finnicky at best, fatal at worst, I settle for staying awake for as long as possible, feeling Baz breathing against me, his muscles fully relaxed, his smile pressed against me, his silky skin being rubbed by my hands slower, and slower…

 **Baz**

How did I go most of my life without this? How did I not go crazy?

I nearly did, spending so long wanting Simon Snow, convincing myself that I would never have him.

It turns out that I was wrong. Simon had me all along. He has me now. He always will.

He's so warm, so alive, so…magic.

He _is_ magic, seeping into me, surrounding me, turning me from a monster to something beloved.

He…

 **Simon**

Baz's breaths grow slow and deep. I move back just enough to look at his sleeping face. There's a trace of a smile there. His face is flushed. His eyelids aren't twitching at all.

Satisfied, I finally let myself rest. I hold him against me with my arms and wings and tail. With my everything.

Just as I'm about to fall asleep, I mentally jot down the final step of my pretend manual that probably no one else will ever actually need.

Step 6: Make sure your vampire feels loved by the time he falls asleep.

This step is _not_ optional.

 **Yes, my fics will feature Baz purring, because I firmly headcanon that vampires are basically cats. I love my precious children so much! I already can't wait until** _ **Wayward Son**_ **comes out, because I know it's only going to get better. I've been really busy with working on several projects, mostly original pieces, but I hope to post more fics for this book in the near future.**

 **Until then, peace out!**


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